


First Kiss

by lyssarae7129



Series: Sterek Ficlets [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 23:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssarae7129/pseuds/lyssarae7129
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterek's first kiss.  Fluffy little ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this little ficlet was good when I wrote it like 2 years ago, but the more I read it, the more I hate it. Have it anyway. I hope somebody thinks it's decent.

Tuesday night was Stiles' favorite night of the week. It was the night that he and Derek caught up on a week's worth of wrestling matches. There was no real reason they hung out on Tuesdays, except that when Derek started visiting every week, Stiles hadn't had classes on Wednesday. If Stiles had been honest with Derek, the werewolf would have known that the engineering major had started skipping his Wednesday classes when his schedule changed. But of course Stiles couldn't tell Derek that. If Derek knew that Stiles hadn't attended a Wednesday class in two semesters, he'd definitely get all broody and spew some bullshit about how Stiles' education was more important than wrestling night. He might even stop visiting so often. And Stiles didn't want that.

The pair had bonded during the summer between Stiles' freshman and sophomore year at Sacramento State, when Jackson had returned from London for college, causing Stiles and Lydia's relationship to fall apart. An unsympathetic Scott intended to leave a crying Stiles alone in the loft after a pack meeting, but instead of going to the bar with everyone else, Derek served Stiles a mostly-gin and tonic. For the next several hours, Derek listened intently and fed Stiles alcohol. And when Stiles was too drunk to cry anymore, Derek took him home and tucked him into bed. Even as Stiles healed, he and Derek spent many nights together in the loft after the rest of the pack had left. So when Stiles returned to Sacramento in the fall, Derek faithfully made the two-hour drive from Beacon Hills every week.

This week, Derek was unusually early. When he heard Stiles galloping down the hall, he stood square to the door with his arms folded and his smile beaming.

"Took you long enough to get here," Derek chuckled as Stiles burst through the door of his tiny apartment. 

Stiles' stomach flipped when he saw Derek. It always did, partially because Derek consistently showed up unannounced, and partially because it still didn't feel real to Stiles that they were friends. Fuck, Stiles thought, can he hear my heart pounding? He must know how excited I was to get home. Stiles knew that Derek's could, quite literally, smell his emotions. He was constantly terrified that he fucked up too much with Derek, and his inability to control his own feelings definitely only hurt him in that category. Speaking of fucking up, the apartment was a mess: yesterday's underwear were on the bedroom floor, there were dishes in the sink, and he hadn't vacuumed in weeks. His eyes flitted to his wide-open bedroom door.

"I took care of it," Derek beamed, as he opened his arms for a hug. "Bro, you have got to learn to clean better.  
Stiles nodded sheepishly, embarrassed that their friendship had reached the point where Derek was cleaning his apartment for him. He also felt like Derek cleaning his apartment translated into something beyond bro-ship. He and Scott were bros. He and Derek were…something else. The relationship they had transcended the boundaries of bromance; it was spiritual.

"Stiles," growled Derek, his arms still open.

"Have you eaten yet?" Stiles asked, trying to play it cool as he and Derek briefly hugged.

"I already ordered Chinese," Derek shrugged. "I think it was supposed to be my turn to buy this time."

"I…uh, thank you," Stiles said, nonchalantly tossing his backpack onto the ratty futon. "You don't have to…" Stiles stumbled over his words. "I know it's my turn. I just…" he trailed off. "Sorry, dude. I just…don't have enough hours at the restaurant to pay the bills right now."

Derek grunted at Stiles, too engrossed in something on his phone to care about whatever money meltdown Stiles was having. He had taken significantly more turns buying them Tuesday dinner, but it wasn't like he minded. It was apparent that Stiles was barely making ends meet. Everyone in college was always flat broke, and it wasn't like Derek hadn't seen the apartment. The TV rested atop a big plastic bin, and the only furniture in sight was the decade-old futon and Stiles' childhood bed. If Stiles had ever accepted help in his life, Derek would have bought him furniture and some real groceries. But Stiles was too proud for that, so Derek didn't test his luck.

 

Stiles didn't wait till they were settled in to start throwing popcorn at Derek. Stiles always threw popcorn at Derek, and it had become something of a game they played. Stiles would toss kernels at Derek until Derek's patience broke. Sometimes, Derek would show off his superhuman speed and reflexes, catching the pieces in his mouth. But most of the time, Derek sat entirely still, allowing pieces of popcorn to accumulate in his hair and lap. Today was a sitting-still day. Derek flicked on the TV without a word. Stiles shrugged as he curled up into a ball on one end of the futon and continued tossing.

"Scott said he hasn't heard from you in a while," Derek remarked as another piece bounced off of his cheek, "he sounded worried."

Stiles paused, caught off guard by Derek's comment. "Is that why you come here? Is Scott sending you here to check up on me?"

Derek shook his head, allowing a hint of a smile to crawl across his lips. "No, Stiles. I just like hanging out with you."

A triumphant look washed across Stiles' face. "Oh," he said taking a breath, "Well, I haven't called Scott because I think he thinks I'm still hung up on Lydia. Which I'm totally not, by the way. But he thinks that I can't move on because I haven't been dating, and it's not that…it's just that there's…never mind. I just don't want a Scott lecture right now is all."

Derek chuckled. "That's fine. He just asked me to bring it up."

Stiles laughed along with Derek, picking up another kernel of popcorn and aiming for Derek's nose.

"That's enough," Derek growled playfully as he caught the kernel in his mouth. "I'm about to try some of these pro wrestling moves on you." Derek tackled Stiles to the floor, pinning Stiles' arms above his head. And then Derek realized he was straddling Stiles. He heard Stiles' heartbeat quicken, and saw the flush spreading across the younger man's face.

Before he knew what he was doing, Stiles slammed his lips against the werewolf's. Derek pressed back hard, pushing Stiles' lips apart with his tongue. He needed to know what every tiny bit of this kid's mouth tasted like. They shared several intense kisses until, "OW! Fuck, Derek." Stiles whimpered in pain, and Derek pulled away.  
Derek had lost control for just long enough that his claws were starting to appear. Stiles' left forearm had two small slices in it, and they were trickling blood. "I'm sorry," he huffed. "Up. On the futon. Give me a minute."

Stiles winced as Derek poured peroxide into his wounds. "Uh…Derek?" he asked. "This isn't going to…you know, change me, is it?"

Derek laughed and reached for the gauze. "I'm not an alpha anymore, Stiles. And even if I were…I didn't get deep enough to do any long term damage. Is that better?"

"Yeah. Just be more careful next time." Stiles fixed his gaze on his shoes. He'd spoken too soon. He didn't even know that there would be a next time.

Derek didn't say a word. He leaned in, and gingerly kissed Stiles' lips, feeling them curl up into a smile. Stiles pushed Derek over and climbed on top of him. "More careful," he mumbled through kisses. The two pushed and prodded and explored each other's mouths for several minutes, until Stiles pulled away, panting. 

Derek placed a small kiss on Stiles' forehead. "Hey, hi," he beamed, as Stiles lowered his forehead against Derek's.

"Hi," Stiles whispered. He ran a hand through the werewolf's hair. "For the record, I'm totally over Lydia."


End file.
